


The Sun Also Rises

by Kaydel



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 10:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaydel/pseuds/Kaydel
Summary: Struck by an epiphany, Philippe expounds on the nature of power. Louis is a hapless captive audience. Between them, they might manage to ruin the entire Grand Lever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arriviste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arriviste/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide arriviste, I hope you like this fic! Versailles' timeline seems to move around and shorten several historical events in order to tell a more compelling story, so the historical details in the fic are not specific but for continuity's sake, I have set it in between the events of Episodes 9 and 10, after Henriette departs for Britain and just before she returns.
> 
> (Also, I apologise in advance; this was supposed to be a more complex fic, but as it turned out, it's mostly a character study with porn.)
> 
> A general warning (in case you have not seen the tags) for sibling incest. If you are uncomfortable with this, please stop reading.
> 
> Many, many thanks to parabolica for the beta!

When Louis woke, it was with a start, as if something — or someone — had reached into his dreams and pulled him into the waking world as a fisherman would haul in his catch. For a moment he blinked with the shock of it, before frowning and looking down at the foot of his bed, Bontemps’ name already on the very tip of his tongue. 

His valet stood awkwardly behind Louis’ brother, who gazed at him with a smug smile playing across his full lips, a cup of wine already clutched in one hand. Bontemps’ expression indicated that he was unsure of how to proceed, which amused Louis more than it should. Perhaps it was simply an elder brother’s pride at his sibling flummoxing the typically level-headed Bontemps. Yet it also weighed against the monarch’s irritation at having his morning ritual possibly in danger of being interrupted for one of Monsieur’s whims. 

If Philippe had intended for his reform of court etiquette to work, surely he would not now sabotage his own efforts, not after having just started the whole performance? Louis could still recall the gleeful tone in Philippe’s voice as he had directed all the courtiers in their slow dance around his bed, watching him get dressed as though it were some kind of personal victory that Philippe had won over him.

“Why are you here on your own?” Louis snapped, annoyed at not being able to fathom the reason for either the smile on his brother’s face or Bontemps’ increasing discomfort. “Where are the rest? The valets?”

Philippe’s smile widened, his mouth full of teeth. “I am here to watch the sun rise, brother.” There was something maniacal about the smile, as if he was teetering on the very edge of a cliff, with a steep drop below. Oh, Louis knew what the problem was.

“Have you been up all night?” Louis asked, eyes narrowing. He threw a glance in Bontemps’ direction. “The Lever must begin soon. Go and check that all the nobles have assembled. And make me a list of those with special concerns they wish to present.” He risked another glance at Philippe, who merely gazed back at him with the steady stare of the serious drunkard. “And do not give the order to begin until I am ready. You may leave us, Bontemps. Thank you.”

With another doubtful look at Philippe, as if he did not privately place much trust in the efficacy of his monarch’s orders, Bontemps bowed and exited, taking the guards with him. The doors shut with an ominous clunking sound and now Louis looked at Philippe, feeling an unsettling doubt begin to creep into the pit of his stomach.

“We are alone now, as you no doubt wanted. Why are you here?”

Philippe did not reply and Louis shifted in his bed, not liking how his brother was deliberately staying silent. He supposed if it had been Athenaïs who was presenting herself to him, he would not mind the interruption to his daily routine. But this was tempestuous, impulsive Philippe, who could command hundreds of soldiers as easily as he chose different silks for his coat lining. Louis felt the flicker of irritation in his chest coil into a more solid annoyance.

“What are you about, brother!”

Without replying, Philippe set his cup down on one of the ornate side tables nearby and stepped closer to the bed. With that same unearthly, fluid grace that he had displayed so many times before, he reached forward and pushed Louis back down onto the soft, soft embrace of the featherbed. 

“May I not come to see how the puppet master is performing my theatre?”

“You have come for the past two days, already,” Louis huffed, struggling against Philippe’s hand, ashamed at how easily his brother had taken him by surprise. “You have your place with all the other members of the court. Why have you decided to act like some silly virgin and come in unannounced? Do you have yet more insights for me to take note of? Some kind of rare observation about the universe and our place in it, perhaps?”

Philippe cocked his head, the fingers of his hand digging easily into the soft flesh of Louis’ shoulder, hard enough to make him gasp. “Ah, but you see, I _have_ had a revelation of sorts, my King. I would share it with you now, since I have been waiting all night to do so, and you were not in your room when I stopped by last night. I had thought to come and talk with you, since I could not sleep and was worrying about my wife’s wellbeing, as I supposed you might be, too.”

The barb was well-aimed, but Louis lifted his chin, determined not to rise to the bait. “A King’s affairs are his own. I do not have to answer to you, or anyone.”

“Ah, but you see; that is where you are wrong, dearest brother.” Philippe was very, very drunk. That much Louis was certain of. His gestures were more expansive, more languid than usual, and the scent of wine hung about him like a noxious vapour. “You answer to me, and to all the court now. Haven’t you understood this? You tasked me to school your unruly nobles in proper court etiquette. And so I have. But you must present yourself as the ideal, no? You are the sun, and they must obviously follow in your orbit.”

“I had not thought you much interested in the study of planets.”

Philippe laughed, rich and deep. “No, but I do enjoy studying various heavenly bodies.”

“What is your point, Philippe?” Louis snapped, “You assault me in my bed like I am some sort of common thief, lecture me on my conduct, and waste words like your good friend Lorraine. Is this showing me that you understand your place in my court? Is this having my back?”

The words had their intended effect. Philippe’s mouth snapped shut and his lips thinned. For a moment, Louis thought his brother might suffer another of his fits of temper, but after a beat, Philippe smiled again. 

“I merely wanted to present this irony to you, my King; you try to control all of us here. And yet you have let me control you.”

Of course Philippe would bring this up now. Now, when the pageantry of the morning was supposed to begin. When the nobles should be obediently tripping over themselves and falling into line for the privilege of securing Louis’ favour. Of course Philippe had to make the whole thing all about him, when he knew very well that Louis’ authority as ruler depended on the smooth running of the whole affair.

“What you talk of is close to treason,” Louis replied evenly, trying not to gasp his surprise out loud as Philippe deftly swung a leg over the side of the bed and ended up straddling his prone body, strong thighs braced on either side. “What are you doing now? Do you think this a joke? Are you trying to delay the whole Lever because you find something ironic in your own grand designs?”

“I am past the desire to _make jokes_ , dearest brother.” For the barest second, Philippe looked deadly serious, then his libertine smile took control of his features once more. “I have decided that a practical demonstration would be of more benefit to you, since you have always been one to twist whatever words I use.”

He finally let go of Louis’ shoulder and sat back. There was something in his blue eyes that Louis could not read, though he had been capable of it when they were children and Philippe made no effort to hide his emotions. The creature sitting on top of him now like some weird nightmare incubus made flesh was an unknown quantity to Louis. Ever since Philippe had returned from the front lines, there was a darkness in him that Louis did not know, and liked even less. He could have handled the tempestuous demands, the outlandish spending on clothes, even the ill-advised liaison with the Chevalier. Those were all known quantities. These sudden changes of mood, the way that Philippe insisted on pulling away from him and his careless disregard of how it reflected on Louis’ rule… these were not things that Louis knew how to deal with.

“Do you wish to control me?” Louis asked, even as Philippe’s hand slid over his chest, hovering over his heart. “Would that make you happy? Being in my position, having my power?”

Philippe snorted. “As ever, you miss my point spectacularly, brother.” Louis could feel the warmth from his fingers bleeding through the fine lawn of his nightshirt. He tried not to shift away. He could not, in any case. Philippe’s eyes held him transfixed. It put him vaguely in mind of the stares of his hunting falcons and the intensity of their gaze just before they latched on to their prey. 

Louis decided this was definitely not the thing to think about while he was on his back and helpless with his slightly crazed brother holding him more or less immobile in his own bed. “Then what point are you supposed to be making?”

“This,” Philippe whispered, his fingers trailing over the flesh exposed by the disarray of Louis’ nightshirt, circling around his neck. It was as gentle as a lover’s caress, yet the look in Philippe’s eyes was not tender. It was feral, hungry. “That you think all the power here lies only with you. You think to control me like some kind of wild horse? To be broken in like you’ve broken all these fawning nobles?”

He circled Louis’ neck with both hands. “I could break you so easily, like this, right now. How many people do you think would mourn your passing?”

“Philippe.” Louis’ voice was steadier than he expected. “Enough. Don’t you think I understood what power I was placing in your hands? Do you think that I would give the task to one who I could not trust?”

The fingers squeezed tight, and Louis had no time to react, only to gasp out Philippe’s name even as he clutched at his brother’s arms.

“Good, very good. Now you would try and distract me and claim that this was your plan all along? That you entrusted me with such a task because you could not give it to anyone else? You made me give up the glories of the battlefield for what? For the chance to order your petty aristocrats around in exchange for having me always under your watchful eye! You give me a taste of power, but rein me in like some kind of mastiff!”

Louis could not answer. Philippe smiled tightly, letting his grip slacken. “It seems my shot has found the centre of the target.” He pulled Louis upright and peered closely at him. “And I do think you will survive my undignified assault on your person.”

“I could have called the guards in,” Louis said, catching his breath. “You do realise that, don’t you?”

Philippe laughed once, without any humour. “Ah, but that would have taken the focus of the drama away from your glorious self! Even now, you would display your power by showing me how merciful you can be.”

“That is the natural order of things!” Louis could not believe what he was hearing. “What would you have me do? Let you come and go here as you please? You know that is out of the question. I need you here because you are part of the court. Think of more than yourself, I beg you. There are those who would take everything away from us. We must present a united front, or risk being brought down by those who would glory in our destruction. The rules you have drawn up are how we shall keep order in this place!”

“Then I must become my own Prometheus.” Philippe leant down, bringing his face very close to Louis’, who could not help flinching a little at the stench of wine. His long fingers cradled Louis’ face, almost in mockery of all the previous times Louis had done it to him. There was no escaping his fervent, half-mad gaze now. Louis could see the anger in it, the desperation. The hunger. It seemed as though every trace of humanity had fled from Philippe’s eyes, replaced with the deadly intensity of the predator.

“What —” But Louis did not get the chance to finish his sentence before Philippe kissed him. It was not a chaste kiss that might be easily explained away as a wayward gesture of fraternal affection. Instead Philippe kissed him as though he was riding into battle. As though Louis was an enemy to be subdued with the very force of his will and strength of arms. 

At first Louis scrambled to get free, afraid of what might happen if Bontemps, distressed at the delay, burst in and saw them. Then he tried to pull away because the voice in his head that sounded distressingly like his mother screamed at him that this was wrong. Firstly because it was a man who was kissing him so passionately, but more importantly because that man was _Philippe_. Who infuriated him daily with his many whims and flights of fancy, who gazed at him with barely-concealed resentment and jealousy each time Louis held court.

Philippe, who was his _brother_. Louis was not usually one to worry about the morality of the sexual act, but there was something deeply, distressingly wrong about the way his body was reacting to Philippe’s kiss. Philippe’s tongue swept past his lips and slid wetly against his own, and Louis groaned at the startling newness of it. How much bolder, more demanding than the women he had lain with, who were always expecting him to be the aggressor. Yet Philippe’s lips were as soft as any of the women he had bedded over the years, and even if he tasted slightly stale, and of last night’s wine, Louis found himself suddenly returning the kiss with increased fervour, his hand that had been trying to push Philippe away changing its grip to clutch and draw him closer.

They devoured each other, as if lips and tongues and teeth were enough to swallow the other man whole. Louis heard the moan leave his mouth and marvelled at the guttural, animal sound of it. How unlike the image of the King that he presented to the rest of the world it was. He doubted that he had ever sounded thus, even in any of his mistress’ beds. And Philippe had provoked this reaction from him; with unerring precision he had drawn this uncharacteristic sound from within Louis’ chest.

As if he had heard Louis’ thoughts, Philippe sat back again, breathing heavily. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, raising an eyebrow as if this was nothing more than a brief tumble with some minor noble. “Congratulations, Louis. I had not thought the King of France to be as inclined to sodomitical passions as I.”

Louis watched Philippe carefully. “Do you think I never indulged in any such exploration in my earlier years, brother?”

Philippe snorted. “Do not be absurd; you have not, Louis. I can tell from the way you fumbled your way through that.” He reached down between them, pulling Louis’ nightshirt over his head and murmuring his satisfaction at how Louis’ cock stood so proudly to attention, curving up against his belly. 

“Ah, but I see clearly that the royal artillery is in fine working order.” He smiled slyly. “I suppose Madame de Montespan will have been satisfied with your… weaponry too.” His finger traced a line up the length of Louis’ cock, from base to tip, and Louis bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud as Philippe circled the head with the barest touch. 

“You are mad.” Louis whispered. Yet he could not move. Could not bring himself to push Philippe’s hand away.

The laugh that issued from Philippe’s mouth was nothing short of diabolical. “Let me show you what true power is, my King.”

Louis watched in a fevered stupor as Philippe divested himself of his clothing, tossing the finely tailored garments behind him without a second glance until he was as naked as Louis. He knew, of course, that he should protest, should stop this debauchery before it ventured too far into dangerous territory, where Philippe would forever have the upper hand. But he was unable to move, his mouth slightly open as Philippe’s proud cock was revealed to his hungry gaze. 

The last time Louis had seen his brother naked, it had been before Philippe had gone to war. He still remembered watching with detached amusement as Philippe and the Chevalier had led a troupe of courtiers through a small creek on a hunting expedition, their spirits inflamed by an excess of wine and boredom. His brother had seemed so much less intimidating then, wild as a satyr but still familiar to Louis as the boy he had grown up with. 

The Philippe who mounted him now was a different creature altogether. His body had been toughened by the experience, strong and powerful in places that before had been soft and graceful. Yet his face, framed by the tumbling dark curls, was much as Louis remembered it, save for the disquieting fervour in his eyes that seemed so alien and remote. He pinned Louis’s hands above his head, his strong fingers pressing painfully into Louis’ wrists.

“Can you guess what I am going to do to you now, brother?”

“Drive me mad?” Louis was surprised at his ability to form words. He found himself wanting to reach out and touch Philippe’s smooth flesh, still unmarked despite his time at the front. The maddening voice of reason in his head had now been drowned out in the tidal flood of his lust and frustration. He should not enjoy being made a fool of like this. Philippe should not have that power. 

“In a manner of speaking.” With a quirk of his lips, Philippe spat into his free hand and worked it between their bodies, reaching downwards for Louis’ cock and taking it in a firm grasp. He moved his face closer to Louis’ and swallowed his brother’s soft moan with his tongue as he began to stroke Louis with practised, almost brutal movements.

“It is no wonder all these women wish to share your bed,” Philippe hissed, pulling away so he could watch the expressions play across Louis’ face. “They must love the sounds you make when you fuck them.”

Philippe’s fingers bore callouses from the wielding of weapons, and the sensation of the roughened skin against Louis’ heated flesh was unlike anything he had previously felt before. Louis hated it; this spell of vulnerability that Philippe had so cunningly cast over him. Unbelievably, however, he still wanted more. Craved every stroke of Philippe’s hand, every brush of that thumb against the head of his cock that brought him closer to oblivion. Disgust and desire warred within Louis, and he knew he should be able to fight this, that the divine force of his will would be enough to push Philippe away, but…

But he could not. Philippe held him captive now, in mind and body both. All it had taken was the touch of his hand, and Louis had never felt so powerless.

“I wonder,” Philippe continued, as though they were bickering over nothing more trivial than the money he spent on his shoes, “if half the reason they fight each other to death for the favour of having you in their beds is the misguided belief that, if they sire you a son, they’ll win more power for themselves and their families here at court.” His hand slowed, and Louis grunted as Philippe’s thumb brushed forcefully against the engorged tip of his cock. “Do you allow them these delusions? Do they think they understand anything of what goes on in that God-given mind of yours?”

“They are happy to … to…” Louis had to calm himself as Philippe shifted the angle of his hand, and bent his head to leave a line of biting, bruising kisses along his neck. “They are happy to serve their King like any obedient subject. As should you.” He rolled his hips up into Philippe’s touch, not missing the irony in his body’s betrayal of his words, surrendering so easily to Philippe’s ministrations. 

“Am I not now serving my King faithfully?” Philippe asked, as if Louis had raised a question about the amount of Venetian silk he would need to make into a new coat. “Am I not giving my King satisfaction?”

The answer was so obvious Louis did not bother answering the question. Instead he bucked against Philippe’s hold on his wrists as Philippe stroked him towards completion, wanting more of his brother’s touch and cursing himself for the perversity of it all. He felt his iron grip on his composure, so hard-won after many years of careful diplomatic training, begin to slip. Damn Philippe and whatever damn foolish idea he had ever conceived of sending his brother to war! What it had produced was a demon in the shape of his brother, a wild Dionysus where there should have been a tamed Ganymede. 

“You see, I happen to know something more about power than these women.” Louis could hear the manic edge in Philippe’s voice now, the slight touch of madness. “I know that these sounds you make will never be heard by them. _I_ am the one in control now, brother. And no matter how many wars you make on other lands, or how many bastards you breed, or how many of my lovers you send away, you will remember this moment. Remember that I had the power in this moment. Me, brother. _I alone._ ”

Louis finally reached his crisis with a strangled cry, which was cut off by Philippe’s lips and tongue once more. They pressed together, sweaty and breathing heavily, limbs entangled. Philippe let go of Louis’ wrists at last and for a few seconds, Louis allowed himself to contemplate the intricate details of the canopy over his bed. Then he watched as Philippe licked his hand clean, arousal curling in his belly, though he was already spent.

He had Philippe on his back before his brother had even realised he had moved. “You seem to have let your guard down, brother. Let me remedy that mistake.”

No one could ever claim that Louis was not a diligent student, shy of recognising the need to address his weaknesses once they were pointed out. 

“This does not mean you have won again!” Philippe hissed, as they tousled for control once more. This time, Louis held his nerve and pinned Philippe to the bed, his fingers and lips and teeth mapping every inch of skin that had previously been denied to him. 

Louis allowed himself a dry chuckle. “Oh, brother. I do love the way you amuse yourself with your fictions.”

He pressed a kiss to Philippe’s neck, reached his hand downwards. “How could you think to defeat me, when I am part of who you are already? My family and my destiny — if I do not have you beside me, Philippe, I am nothing. How could you wish for any other kind of power?”

Philippe’s answer was incoherent. A cry of rage and helplessness, of desire and capitulation. But Louis already had his answer.


	2. Coda: Back On Schedule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A coda to The Sun Also Rises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave old Bontemps out of the chamber for too long. This is basically a closing scene to the whole fic that I've added on as a separate chapter. It does not affect the events of the main story in any way.

When Bontemps finally re-entered the King’s chambers, he noticed that Louis was already on his feet, his hair tousled from what looked to be like a troubled night’s sleep. Bontemps did not recall hearing the King tossing and turning in his bed. It concerned him that he should not have noticed the King’s distress immediately. He would have to ensure that he did not sleep so soundly in future.

Monsieur stood behind the King, his face serene and devoid of the manic energy that Bontemps had seen earlier in the morning. Whatever matter they had been discussing seemed to have resolved itself. Indeed, both royal brothers looked less likely to fall into bickering. Bontemps gave thanks and resolved to say an extra decade of the rosary when he next found a moment. It was not often these days that he could claim such an auspicious start to the morning.

As he approached the bed, Bontemps saw that there was evidence of a nocturnal emission on the King’s sheets. A rarity these days, what with the King’s many mistresses all jostling for the privilege of siring another of Louis’ sons, but these were natural occurrences that happened to many healthy young men, and Louis was human. An agent of God on this earth, but human all the same. 

Bontemps bowed low before his King. “Shall we begin, Your Majesty?”

After a quick glance behind him, Louis nodded. “Indeed. Let us all welcome the sun.”


End file.
